


What's In A Name?

by RedStarFiction



Category: Outlander & Related Fandoms, Outlander (TV), Outlander Series - Diana Gabaldon
Genre: F/M, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-22
Updated: 2016-09-22
Packaged: 2018-08-16 17:10:18
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,506
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8110645
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RedStarFiction/pseuds/RedStarFiction
Summary: A wee ficlet/fluff piece set during Jamie and Claire's time in France.





	

Murtagh paused in the doorway and smiled to himself. Claire was humming quietly, her hands resting on the swell of her belly, and absent smile on her lips. It suited her, being with child. Murtagh had very little experience of interacting with women in such a state but from what he knew of it, some took to breeding better than others.

Jamie had worried that Claire was barren; the lass had apparently believed herself to be and with her healing knowledge of course Jamie had felt she would know, but Murtagh had been on the earth long enough to ken apothecary’s and healers were often too quick to judge such matters.

“Oh!”

Claire looked up and for a moment panic flamed across her features before she recognised him.

“Oh Murtagh! I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to shriek!”

Murtagh grinned beneath his beard and stepped into the room

“It was hardly a shriek lass. I didna mean to startle ye, I was listenin’ to ye wee song.”

Claire blushed and dipped her head

“It was just an old tune from … my home. I think it must have come from my grandmother or further.”

“The best ones often do.”

Murtagh fidgeted awkwardly, a little unsure of what to do with himself now that he was in the bed chamber of his God-son and his wife, a place he had no real right to be. He scowled to himself at that thought. France was turning everything on its head! He would never have gone into the lairds chamber at Lallybroch and peeked in at Jamie’s wife!

“Forgive me my lady, I didna mean disrespect.”

He gave Claire a stiff bow and began to leave

“Murtagh, wait!”

Claire pushed herself up from the bed and smiled as she walked towards him

“Please, if you’re not busy I could use the company.”

“I dinna ken that I would be much company for ye but I could escort ye to the warehouse if ye wished to speak a word wi’ Jamie?”

Claire wrinkled her nose at the thought of the warehouse, its cloying smell of sweet grapes and spilt wine, not to mention the smell of the docks…

“No, thank you I don’t think the warehouse is … no. I’d rather take a walk around the gardens, if you don’t mind?”

“No I dinna mind.”

Murtagh shrugged and offered Claire his arm, alarmed at the thought of her trying to navigate the stairs alone.

“If ye feel faint, just say the word, eh? I dinna ken that I could catch ye, size that ye are.”

As the words left his mouth, he closed his eyes and bit his tongue sharply. Of all the insulting and foolish things to say…

Claire laughed and squeezed his arm.

“Don’t worry, if I feel faint I promise to give you ample warning to leap to safety.”

“Och! I didna mean to save my own skin, only that I would hate for ye to …”

Claire laughed again and Murtagh realised he was being teased.

“Mmmpphmm. Weel. I wouldna like for ye to fall is all I meant.”

The two made their way into the gardens and Murtagh noticed the light come into Claire’s eye as she moved from shrub to shrub, running her finger tips over petals and leaves, sometimes stopping to sniff at them.

“Ye spent a lot o’ time around plants before then?”

He asked and Claire shrugged slightly

“Not a lot but since being here I have learned a lot more and my interest has grown,”

She looked over her shoulder at him

“I feel an affinity with the plants if that makes any sense?”

Murtagh snorted

“It doesna, but dinna fash o’er it.”

Claire grinned and returned to her inspection.

“Have ye thought o’ a name yet then for the laddie?”

“No. Jamie likes ‘Dalhousie’ apparently it’s a castle?”

Murtagh wrinkled his nose and shook his head, sitting himself on the lawn.

“Aye but no’ a verra grand one! Dunnottar! Now there is a castle worth naming ye first born for.”

Claire sighed and stretched her back, crossing to sit beside Murtagh.

“I’d just as soon not name him or her after a building!”

“Weel there are many good strong names for a lad.”

Murtagh looked up at the sky and pondered for a moment

“I always thought if I had a laddie I’d name him Fergus but we already have one o’ those.”

Claire saw the small smile touch Murtagh’s lips at the thought of their French waif and smiled in kind.

“Ye could name him James for his father, though perhaps that is a wee bit proud for Jamie’s tastes. Maybe Parlan or Griograire? Angus is another. Or there is Brian, for his grandsire.”

“All very good and Scottish.”

Claire nodded and Murtagh shot her a side long look.

“Ye’d prefer an English name then?”

“I quite like Lambert. Or Henry.”

Murtagh pursed his lips a moment, plucking blades of grass absently

“Ye’ll be needin’ Jamie to teach him how to fight just about as soon as he can walk if ye gi’ him a soft name.”

“Henry isn’t a soft name! Kings have been called Henry!”

“Aye, English kings. A fat one at that.”

Claire laughed and nudged Murtagh with her elbow.

“Alright, how about we call him Murtagh and be done with it?”

“Away wi’ ye!”

The older man grumbled but Claire saw a small flush colour the skin visible above his beard.

“A middle name at least? Lambert Murtagh Fraser.”

Claire beamed and deliberately busied herself with brushing a greenfly from her sleeve.

“And suppose ye ha’ a lassie?”

“I think we would probably name her for my mother or maybe Jamie’s. Julia or Ellen. Though I don’t really know.”

Claire frowned and sighed

“Jamie hasn’t really talked about a name. I think this conversation between you and I is the longest I have deliberated on the subject with anyone!”

Murtagh pushed his tongue into his cheek and considered her a moment.

“Men are slower to think o’ these things.”

“Perhaps.”

“Ye ken Jamie is overjoyed to become a father?”

“I hope so! It’s a bit late if he isn’t!”

Claire tried to sound light hearted but the strain was evident in her voice.

“Dinna be daft Claire,”

Murtagh shook his head gently before fixing her with a firm stare

“Ye ken what ye are to him, what the bairn is to him. Ye ha’ kept him alive and in his right mind when nothin’ else could. If he hasna spoken o’ names it is because he hasna thought o’ one, not because he hasna thought of you.”

Claire nodded a little abashed and smiled

“Still, it’s nice to discuss it. Especially with his or her potential Godfather!”

Murtagh puffed out his chest and let out his breath in a huff.

“No, I’ll no be standin’ as the weans Godfather. I’m too old.”

“But…”

“Seas! Ye canna pledge the laddie into the care o’ an auld man should somethin’ happen to ye and Jamie. Have Ian Murray and Janet stand as his Godparents. They’d do well for him.”

They sat in silence for a moment and then slowly Claire lowered her head onto his shoulder. She felt him stiffen a moment and then slowly the knotted muscle began to relax.

“You’re right. As usual. You’ll have to be Grandpa Murtagh.”

“Eh?”

The shoulder beneath her cheek jerked and Claire smiled to herself.

“You heard.”

“Aye. I did at that.”

Murtagh mumbled and Claire could tell he was smiling from the sound of his voice.

“I wouldna wish to disrespect Brian’s memory…”

“He trusted you with his son.”

Claire pointed out

“Aye he did.”

Murtagh mused grudgingly

“And although you let him get into a ridiculous amount of trouble and then marry a Sassenach accused of witchcraft and being a spy, we’ll give you a second shot.”

The rich timbre of Murtagh’s laugh surprised Claire, she had heard him chuckle before but never the loud belly laugh that erupted from him then.

“Murtagh! What are ye doin’ wi’ my wife?”

Jamie strode down the lawn toward them, the Parisian sun bouncing off his hair in red and gold sparks.

“Naming your son.”

“Dalhousie?”

“Lambert!”

Murtagh called back and grinned at his Godson’s grimace.

“If ye dinna like it I suggest ye appeal to ye wife’s sense o’ diplomacy.”

“Ah, weel it’s a lost cause then.”

Jamie laughed, gently helping Claire to her feet and wrapping her in a warm embrace. Murtagh watched them for a moment longer

“I canna get used to this bright light, I prefer the grey skies o’ Scotland to this nonsense. Jamie, will ye escort Claire on her tour o’ the garden? I need to go inside.”

“Aye. Gladly.”

Jamie beamed and threaded Claire’s arm through his own. As they began to walk away Claire looked over her shoulder at Murtagh who raised his considerable eyebrows, prompting her. Turning her attention back to Jamie she looked up at him and smiled

“Now, about this ‘Dalhousie’ nonsense…”


End file.
